Hope
by Meredith01
Summary: Post 'At Rest'. M/S


Synopsis:- Post 'At Rest'. A different version of the horrible, horrible mess that now is Season 6. I remain happily in denial!

Pairing:- Martin/Samantha

I do not own 'Without A Trace' or any of it's characters, I'm merely borrowing them. (If I did own them I might still be watching the show!)

* * *

Finally, she had found the courage to do it.

Sitting alone on the window ledge, Samantha Spade stared out miserably into the gloomy evening sky and watched the rain spatter unceremoniously onto the glass.

She clutched a glass of red wine tightly in her right hand, clumsily wiping away a steady procession of tears that rivalled the heavy raindrops currently descending from the angry skies. Her hand visibly shook as she reached out and picked up the small white plastic stick, leaning back against the cold wall as she stared wide eyed at the tiny window within the plastic.

After a week of staring at the test on her bathroom counter, she had finally resolved to end her misery and find out one way or the other just how big a mistake she had again inflicted upon herself.

Sixty agonising seconds of waiting and there it was...one pink line. It was negative.

All the pent up tension and fear of the past week was suddenly released in a torrent of tears and regret and an undeniable amount of relief. She had narrowly escaped yet another self destructive act of pure stupidity.

Samantha placed the test stick down onto the ledge beside her and took another large, warming gulp of wine, closing her eyes as she felt the alcohol burn a pleasantly hot trail down her throat and into her still churning stomach. The past week had left her alone in her misery, there had been nobody she could talk to or confide in, not without some form of reprimand or warning, but it was the idea of being judged that had forced her to keep her fears to herself.

Danny would have been supportive but she knew there would have been an underlying current of disapproval, Elena and Vivian she couldn't count as close enough friends to unload her troubles upon and as for Jack, his own agendas were she was concerned would have undoubtedly clouded any support he might have been able to offer her.

Then of course there was Martin. Neither friend nor lover, he existed somewhere in between the two where it had become difficult to label their current relationship.

If Samantha thought hard enough about it, he was her greatest regret and biggest failure.

Their friendship had never fully recovered from the fallout of their breakup and aside from the other aspects of being in a romantic relationship with him, it was perhaps his friendship she missed the most.

She had been uncharacteristically quiet in work that day, had simply gone about her business without question or comment and it had been Martin who had found a quiet moment to ask her if she was ok. She had of course assured him she was, the idea of telling him about her current troubles made her sick to the stomach. He would be disappointed in her, she knew that.

Yet curiously the idea that scared Samantha even more than disapproval was apathy. If he didn't care enough to be hurt, upset or angry with her, then he had truly moved on and the idea made her heart ache with regret.

The sudden ringing of the phone pulled her quickly from her thoughts and she ignored the long succession of shrill rings and instead remained seated on the window ledge, resting her forehead against the cool glass as she heard the answer machine pick up her missed call.

The sound of Martin's uncertain voice shattering the silence of the room, "Hey Sam. I just wanted to know you were ok," he paused hesitantly, "I er...I guess I'll see you tomorrow.'

The machine slowly clicked and became silent once again, the green light now blinking furiously.

Samantha stood up slowly from her seat on the ledge and placed her empty glass down onto the coffee table as she fingered the 'Delete' button indecisively.

But instead she pressed 'Play', smiling through a fresh batch of tears as she replayed the message and dropped down heavily onto the edge of the bed beside her, picking up the phone and quickly punching in a familiar number.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest with each teasing turn of the dial tone and she found herself at once relieved and irritated when the message from his answer machine intercepted the call. Sam listened to his brief greeting, swallowing hard as she mentally planned her message and tried to resist the urge to timidly hang up.

"Uh...Hi, I just uhm...I guess I wanted to talk to you," she toyed nervously with the fabric of the duvet cover, "but you're not in so uhm...I...I'll see you tomorrow."

She sat up against the headboard and swiped her eyelashes clumsily to free a tear-drop, staring around her at the items flung onto the bed, displaying a sort of 'time line' the events of her evening.

Her coat lay draped over the bed, her cell and badge resting nearby surrounded by the cellophane wrappers and boxes of the three tests she had eventually summoned up the courage to take. She had to be sure and three seemed like a good number, thankfully each one had displayed the same result. She placed the phone back on it's cradle and lay down against the soft plush pillows, staring once again out into the darkened skies as she wrapped her arms around herself and let her heavy eyelids flutter closed.

* * *

Samantha didn't remember falling asleep, yet half an hour later she found herself waking up to an unexpected knocking on the front door. She sat up unsteadily on the edge of the bed and hastily pulled the messy ponytail in her hair tighter against her scalp, trying to look at least marginally presentable. 

She padded toward the front door, pausing briefly to look in the mirror by the door before she sighed in defeat and turned to open the door.

"Martin?" she stepped back in surprise and looked up curiously at her co-worker, easily able to detect the worry that clouded his handsome face.

He smiled good naturedly and appeared to give her an analytical gaze before he gestured behind her, "Can I come in?"

"Oh...yeah," she stuttered, frowning as she stepped back to allow him inside and then closed the door with a gentle click.

"I got your message," he explained, "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I told you I'm fine," she shrugged, hoping the traces of tear tracks were not still visible on her face, "I got your message and I..."

"Right," Martin nodded, scanning the living room quickly and obviously taking in the discarded Kleenex and almost empty bottle of wine that sat on the coffee table.

Sam followed his gaze and looked up at him fearfully, feeling on the precipice of breaking down in tears. Martin's determined expression fell as he saw the pain etched on her face and he took a slow step toward her and extended his hand to gently lift her chin to face him.

"Sam...what is it? Whatever it is you can tell me."

She felt her stomach flutter nervously as she stared up into his eyes, casting her gaze shamefully to the floor as she felt herself trapped and bound to answer.

"I...I thought I might be pregnant."

Martin just stared at her silently, his eyes betraying his calm reaction as his hand fell slowly away from her cheek. Sam closed her eyes at the feel of his skin leaving hers and blinked back tears as he appeared to stare down at the ground lost in thought.

"Oh," was all he found himself able to manage, so many thoughts and feelings clouding his mind, many of which he thought had been put to rest.

"I'm not," she shook her head, "I took a test...three," she laughed self consciously, wrapping her arms defensively around herself.

Martin jammed his hand sin his pockets and nodded, apparently still processing her admission, "I didn't know you were seeing someone."

"I'm not, I mean I wasn't," she shook her head again, reaching up with a trembling hand and rubbing her forehead tiredly.

Martin looked at her momentarily and cocked an eyebrow, "I see."

She blanched as she saw the hurt and disappointment in his eyes, "Look, I'm sorry I called you. I...I really don't want to talk about this right now ok. I'm sorry."

Samantha expected him to turn around and leave but instead he lowered himself to the sofa and leant his head in his hands, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly before lifting his gaze to her face.

"Why did you call me Sam?? Why did you call me and...and not Jack?"

Sam shrugged and wrung her hands distractedly as she sat down beside him, "I don't know."

He nodded sadly and watched tears roll down her pale cheeks, picking up the bottle of wine and standing up decisively, "I'm gonna make you some coffee."

"I'll help," she offered, quickly picking up some of the tissues from the table top.

"No, it's ok," he shook his head and avoided her gaze, "I remember where everything is."

Samantha sat back against the sofa and nodded wretchedly, listening to the clatter of cutlery and closing drawers and cupboards as he moved around the kitchen. She reached for the remote control on the table before her and pointed it at the nearby stereo, hoping to fill the gaping silence with some sort of distraction.

Martin returned a few minutes later with two large mugs of coffee, placing one down in front of her before he took up his previous seat and took a thoughtful sip of the hot liquid.

Sam held her mug firmly between her hands, listening to the gentle melody of the song playing on the radio.

"I like this song," she said quietly, watching the steam rise steadily in the air before her.

A small, almost wistful smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, "I remember."

Samantha took a deep breath and placed the mug down onto the oak table top, turning to face him as she tried to apologise for her decidedly un-Samantha like emotional display.

"Martin, I'm sorry I called you."

He shrugged and smiled tightly, "I probably would've come over to check on you anyway."

Sam nodded and placed her hand over her eyes, touched by his concern and once again realising what she had so willingly thrown away when they had parted.

"I've made such a mess of things," she said bitterly, blinking back tears and pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt his gaze settled uncomfortably on her, "I didn't want my life to be like this."

Martin placed his mug down beside hers and sighed deeply as he watched her; she looked so fragile and vulnerable, nothing like the cold, detached woman he had made himself believe she had been.

"Sam," he said softly, momentarily debating whether or not to try and comfort her before finally moving across the sofa and placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder.

She curled her body inwards and moved wordlessly into his arms, leaving him slightly stunned but compelled to offer her the embrace she craved.

"It's not too late Sam, it's not too late to change things," he soothed, feeling her hand grip the fabric of his shirt tightly in her fist as she held him close.

He closed his eyes and leant his chin lightly on the top of her head, upset by her tears and yet irritated with himself for falling into her web once again. He inhaled the faint scent of her perfume, noting it was different to the one she had favoured when they had dated; the heady, exotic scent that had remained ingrained in his memory all this time had now changed to a softer, sweeter perfume. Yet the feel of her in his arms once again and the softness of her hair against this cheek remained the same and he continually had to remind himself that he was over her.

He was tired of her games and exhausted by the chase and he knew if he held her much longer he wouldn't be able to convince himself of that.

Sam suddenly pulled away from his arms and sat back a little, her hand still remained on his chest, lingering idly over the soft fabric.

She sniffled in defiance and let her gaze remain fixed on her hand, watching her fingers grasp the white cotton, "You had a meeting tonight?" she asked suddenly, as if finally snapping back to reality.

Martin nodded, not being able to tear his gaze from her hand, his skin burning furiously underneath her touch, "Yeah. I can miss one," he assured her.

"You're..you're doing ok?" she asked, half trying to detract from her own problems but also genuinely interested in his recovery.

"Yeah," he inhaled slowly and nodded, "I am."

He frowned as she looked up at him worriedly, "What did you tell Danny?"

Martin smiled reassuringly, "I told him that a friend needed me."

Sam smiled gratefully and then glanced down at her lap, glad he hadn't yet tried to extricate himself from their somewhat awkward embrace.

It felt so good to be back in his arms again, the scent of his skin and the heat from his body was both intoxicating and reassuring and before she knew what she was doing she found herself staring up at him, gradually moving in closer as he too seem entranced.

She tiled her head slowly, her lips almost brushing his before she suddenly felt him pushing her back from him, his fingertips against her lips, gently but firmly denying her kiss.

"No Sam, we can't," he shook his head determinedly, his breathing ragged as he still found himself holding her to him, her soft breath hitting his cheek.

Her eyes stared up into his, a slow, single tear tripping her cheek as she stared up at him in defeat and recognition, "It's too late for us isn't it?!"

Martin felt his heart pounding in his chest, the sound reverberating in his eardrums as he shook his head hopelessly, "I don't know Sam."

She nodded in acceptance, licking her lips nervously, "I did love you Martin, I need you to know that," she admitted, feeling she now had nothing to gain or lose by finally admitting her feelings to him.

He remained silent, simply staring at her as he tried to fight every fibre of his being urging him to kiss her, "I don't know what you want from me Sam, I never did."

She lowered her eyes from his face in an admission of guilt,"I don't want to be that person any more Martin," she shook her head dejectedly, "I need to figure things out and..."

Samantha closed her eyes as she felt his fingertips against her skin, his blue eyes staring down at her in obvious concern as he swept her hair behind her ear and listened intently.

Martin let his fingers linger in her blonde hair before slowly pulling away; he could feel his resolve crumbling and he knew if he allowed himself to stay with her they would simply end up back in their old pattern of behaviour again and that was more than his heart could take. But it was difficult to see somebody in pain, especially somebody you were still in love with.

"I better go," he said softly, mourning the sensation of her body against his as he gently edged away from her and stood up from the sofa.

Samantha followed him slowly to the door, neither quite ready for him to leave.

"Thank you," she smiled self consciously as he loitered in the hallway.

"I was worried about you," he admitted, "are you gonna be ok?" he raised an eyebrow questioningly as he stared down at her.

"Yeah," she nodded, a brief smile appearing on her face as she reached out and took his hand. "You're a good man Martin," she rubbed her thumb slowly over the back of his hand and watched him smile and shake his head in a self-effacing gesture, "No, you are. And...you deserved better than me."

The smile fell from his lips as he listened to her words and he squeezed her hand tightly as he stepped closer toward her, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"That was my choice," he replied, knowing it was futile to argue with her. Samantha's self esteem was barely existent where men were concerned, "and it still is my choice."

She felt a tiny bubble of hope surface within her, wondering if his use of the present tense meant that he hadn't given up on her or 'them' entirely.

Martin sighed and lifted her head gently, hating to see her in so much pain and wondering if he would ever be able to undo all the hurt the men in her life had managed to inflict upon her. He knew if Samantha sought out comfort in the arms of unworthy men, it was only because she considered herself undeserving of anything better.

Sam closed her eyes at his touch and leant her cheek into his palm, surprised when she felt him step closer and his breath touch her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and they remained locked in an intense gaze until very slowly he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips against hers in an achingly tender kiss.

She returned the kiss hesitantly before gradually pulling away, a shy smile present on both of their faces as their hands too eventually parted.

Martin cleared his throat self consciously and opened the door, pausing as he stepped out into the hallway, "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," she almost whispered, trying not to smile so widely as he walked backwards toward the elevator.

Sam leant against the doorframe as she watched him leave, finding herself willing him to turn around and aknowledge her one last time.

And when he did and she recognised the smile on his face, for the first time in a long time she knew there was hope.


End file.
